


Poughkeepsie

by Castiel_in_the_impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Poughkeepsie, Vampires, origin of poughkeepsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_in_the_impala/pseuds/Castiel_in_the_impala
Summary: The origin of Poughkeepsie, the boy's code word for "drop everything and run".It’s 1997. The Winchesters are on their way to a new case Lancaster, New Hampshire from Baltimore, Maryland. John had just taken out a couple of spirits in an old hotel the previous night and needed a few days, so they stopped in Poughkeepsie, New York. Seizing the opportunity to hit the town and relax, Sam and Dean do just that. But where there's Winchesters, there's bad luck. Really bad luck.





	Poughkeepsie

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of my fic TTT nearly reaching 10,000 hits, I'm posting this. I've been working on it little by little for the past three months.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING***
> 
> there is abuse (basically a beating by that asshole known as John Winchester) in this story  
> you have been warned

 

John Winchester’s journal:

 

_June 27, 1997_

 

_Baltimore Reich Hotel_

_37 Patriot Lane, Baltimore, MD_

_Took out two spirits. Tony and Miranda Robinson, married. Died in 1953 after they disappeared. Turns out they secretly squatted in the hotel basement and when the manager found out, he killed them. Every year on the spring equinox, they killed a couple staying in the hotel, leading me to believe they were killed on that day. Sam stood guard at the stairwell while Dean and I tore down a wall in the basement where the corpses were preserved in the drywall. They were salted and burned with no civilian witnesses._

 

John grunts when a particularly nasty dizzy spell overpowers him and he puts down his pen. He touches his left arm gingerly, wincing. The skin slightly stained red. Blood oozes out of his fresh stitches, courtesy of Dean.

“Fucking ghosts,” he curses. After he torched Miranda, Tony attacked John. Luckily, he was too distracted with John to notice Dean dropping the matches on the body, causing Tony to go up in smoke.

Unfortunately for John, Tony got a good hit in, slicing a good 6 inch cut down John’s arm. He lost a lot of blood by the time Dean managed to stitch him up. He thinks he has a concussion too.

John watches blankly as a single crimson droplet slides lazily down his bicep. The image blurs and he groans, rubbing his temple. He’s definitely going to be out of commission for a few days.

That’s why he decided to stop in… where is he? John stumbles over to the bed from his place at the table and squints at the motel brochure. Poughkeepsie. Poughkeepsie, New York. Hell, he would have driven straight there, but with his injuries, he decided they could crash for a few days to heal. Besides, they’ve got time before the next hunt: a werewolf up in Lancaster, New Hampshire. The full moon isn’t for another 2 weeks. They have time to rest up for a few days.

 

A few moments later, Dean and Sam open the motel door, arms full of crinkling grocery bags.

They’re laughing about something, John notices. Despite the pain he’s in, he cracks a smile and ruffles Sam’s hair as he passes by the bed on the way to the fridge.

“Got enough groceries?” John asks.

Dean’s mouth makes a thin line. His father’s words are slurred slightly, not from booze, but blood loss. Trust him, he knows the difference.

“Yep. Got enough to last at least a week if we ration it right,” Sam replies, “We got a bunch of mac ‘n cheese, pretzels, a little container of salad, water bottles, soda, some pie _obviously_ , and,” Sam grimaces, “Frozen burger… _things_.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “They’re frozen patties, Sammy,” he explains, “They’re not fresh, but we can have some fun and make our own burgers for once. Don’t have to go to a diner to have one. All we gotta do is heat ‘em up in the microwave and _ta da!_ Burgers! I’ve got some toppings and stuff in my bags here…”

The boys begin sorting through the various bags, checking expiration dates as to tell what they need to eat first, and putting them away in the fridge.

 

The next thing John knows, someone is shaking him awake from where he fell asleep on the bed.

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes as he flails around blindly for a moment, half asleep still.

“Dad?” It’s Dean.

He stills and something is being shoved into his mouth. Pills.

“Take these.”

He feels the plastic rim of a water bottle against his lips, taking a gulp as soon as the cool water touches his skin. He swallows, grunts, and rolls back over, immediately asleep.

 

Dean sighs, screwing the top of the water bottle closed. With the amount of blood loss John suffered and the concussion, Dean gave him a painkiller and a sedative to both relieve pain and keep him asleep. Even without it, the boys could tell John was going to sleep for at least a day. Now it’s more like two, two and a half. Somewhere around there.

“Did he take it?” Sam asks as Dean walks back to the kitchen.

“Yeah. Didn’t say a single word to me. Just swallowed it down and went back to sleep.”

Sam hums his response, nodding.

The boys thought it would be best to give John the sedatives. He tends to push himself, especially when injured, so when they’re really worried, they slip him a pill to let him sleep and recover. They rarely do it, but in this case, with all the blood loss and nasty concussion, they thought it would be best.

 

“What should we do now?” Sam asks.

Dean looks over at the monologue clock on the nightstand between the two full beds. Blocky red numbers shine back at him. 7:43 pm.

Dean hears Sam’s stomach growl behind him, reminding him that neither of them have eaten dinner. He turns back, a small smile playing on his face.

“How would you like to make a burger?”

Sam purses his lips in thought. After a moment, he comes to a conclusion.

“Only if there’s a side salad.”

Dean throws his head back in laughter. Leave it to his 14 year old brother to bring vegetables into the equation.

“Alright, alright. We’ll have some damn rabbit food.” Dean begins unpackaging two patties, neatly tossing the wrapping into the wastebasket across the room.

“I’m serious, Dean,” Sam begins to argue as he joins his brothers side in preparing their meal, “You have to be healthier. Vegetables fuel your body and help-”

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Shut up and hand me the burger buns.”

 

xx

 

Dean is startled awake by the twang of an empty soda can hitting the wall above his head. He open his eyes only to see the bright red coca-cola logo falling towards his face. It hits his head softly, not that Dean expected anything different. It’s a piece of aluminum for christ sakes.

Dean mutters a curse at the rude awakening and sits up, blinking the room into focus.

Sam is perched on a chair by the table on the other side of the room, hair askew and clothes rumbled, signalling that he, too, just got up.

“Well,” Sam says, “That was anticlimactic.”

Dean groans and swings his pajama-clad legs over the side of the bed. In one swift motion, he hurtles the can back at his brother.

“Bitch,” he breathes as the can hits Sam square in the middle of the forehead.

His brother rubs the reddening spot on his forehead. “Jerk.”

 

The boys take turns showering. Dean, being the petty person he is, uses up all the hot water, leaving Sam to the icy water he left behind.

A shivering Sam steps out of the bathroom, wrapped tightly in a thin motel towel. “What the _hell_ , Dean?”

Dean’s face is smug. “That’s what you get for getting me up at the asscrack of dawn.”

“It’s not _that_ early, you know.” Sam grabs a change of clothes and returns to the bathroom.

“It’s six in the morning, Sam!”

 _“Just shut up, Dean!”_ his muffled voice yells from behind the door.

 

Sam and Dean walk down Main Street in shorts in the warm summer sun, a rare clothing choice as they can’t have open skin when hunting in the woods.

“How ‘bout there?” Sam points across the street to a quaint little coffeehouse.

“ _Mel’s Cafe?_ ” Dean reads the sign skeptically.

“Come on, Dean. When’s the last time we got breakfast at a place that’s _not_ a diner?”

The older hunter purses his lips in thought, then frowns.

 _“Exactly_. So let’s go!”

 

The front wall of Mel’s Cafe is completely covered in windows, bringing lots of natural light into the small space. It’s cozy. There are big blackboards with menu items in fancy lettering and small drawings mounted on the brink walls, small round tables placed around the room, a glass display containers filled with freshly baked items, and a big coffee bar.

“Wow,” Sam is in awe, “This place is cool.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, if you like hipster-y stuff. This is just a phase. It’ll be gone by next year, just you wait.”

“Can we even afford this?” Sam asks quietly, a doleful twinge in his voice.

Dean glances down, watching Sam eye the expensive menu with a carefully blank look.

He sighs. This kid will be the death of him. “Yeah. I’ll have to do some hustling soon, but we can afford to treat ourselves a little.”

The subdued look vanished from Sam’s face, gazing up at Dean with admiration. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me. Go pick something.”

Sam runs off to the register, probably to order the sweetest thing on the menu.

Despite his reservations with the cafe, as Dean passes the display case, his eyes light up upon eying a particularly good looking pastry. He picks out something for breakfast and joins Sam at the register.

As Dean orders an apple strudel and a black coffee on top of Sam’s items, he notices the nametag on the barista’s shirt. Mel. She’s maybe 5’4” and young, no older than 25, with short brown hair and shining blue eyes.

“So _you’re_ Mel,” Dean as he pays, “Seem to be doing pretty well for yourself.” He motions around him.

Mel blushes and hands Dean his change. “Thanks, uh…”

“Dean.”

She smiles softly. “Thanks, _Dean_. It’s been a dream of mine to run a little cafe, but I never believed that it would turn into something like this.”

Dean grins a 100 watt smile. “Life is full of surprises. Maybe I’ll see you around, Mel.” He winks, retrieves his items, and joins his brother at a corner table at the front .

Sam has already devoured most of his breakfast.

“What did you get?” Dean asks around a mouthful of strudel.

Sam points to leftover crumbs. “That used to be a bear claw and this is a caramel macchiato.” He takes a sip, moaning in delight. He holds the cavity-forming drink out to his brother. “Wanna try?”

Dean glares at the sugary-monstrosity as if it personally offended him. “Yeah, no, I’ll pass.”

He shivers suddenly, hunter senses tingling. He looks around, not noticing anything in particular. There’s just… something feels weird.

“I think we should put dad in the car and go,” Dean blurts out suddenly, surprising even himself.

Sam stills mid sip. “What?”

“Ya know, just _go_.”

“You really wanna just, what, _drop everything and run?_ ” Sam asks curiously.

“Yeah,” Dean replies with a self-conscious shrug.

Sam sets down his cup. “Dean, I refuse to go anywhere. I want to relax for a day or two. At _least_ let us have that.”

Despite his instincts telling him to run from this town, Dean grunts an acceptance and puts his cup to his lips.

 

xx

 

The two of them are walking down the street again. Dean checks his watch. 7:15 am. “So,” he starts, “What do you want to do today, Sammy?”

As Sam mulls over different ideas, something catches his eye. Slowly, he turns to Dean, eyes bright and smile wide, pointing toward a bookstore.

Dean chuckles. “Of _course_ you’d pick the most boring place in the joint.”

“Say what you want, Dean. I’m not ashamed to say I love books.”

His big brother smiles fondly as they enter the store.

 

An hour later, Sam is the proud owner of two new books. The newly published _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ and something about norse gods. “It’s research _and_ a cool story!” he declared.

 

Sam remembers seeing something about a lake on a brochure at the motel, so they decide to go swimming.

The lake is huge and surrounded by trees with a designated beach for swimmers. The cool, blue water ripples slightly in the breeze. There’s a few kayaks out in the middle of the lake. It’s a hot day, and even though it’s only about 8:30, the beach is already crowded. Dean spots something across the lake so when Sam goes to pull off his tee shirt, Dean yells, “Come on!” and begins walking to the trees.

 

After a 15 minute hike through the woods, the boys make it to a clearing. It’s a small sandy beach, maybe 50 feet across, completely deserted.

A little beach all to themselves.

“Spotted this from across the lake,” Dean grunts. He leans over to catch his breath. “Damn it’s hot.”

“Awesome!” Sam immediately yanks off his shirt, shoes, and socks and lays his books carefully on them as not to ruin the precious pages with sand.

He runs into the water, not stopping till he’s neck deep. He dives under, feeling around on the lake’s floor for anything interesting. His hand brushes some slimy algae.

Sam rises back to the surface with a scream, followed by a fit of giggles as he shakes water out of his ‘princess hair’. “Come on, Dean! The water’s great!”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Dean yells back, but Sam is already under the water again, legs kicking out in the air randomly.

Dean kicks off his shoes and socks. He pulls off his shirt, then his nokia cell phone and wallet out of his pocket. He throws the phone on his shirt and thumbs through his wallet.

11 dollars.

They have 11 dollars till they’re out of money. He sighs and puts his wallet next to his phone. They’ve spent a lot of money today. John is going to be mad, but Dean wouldn’t change a thing. Sam deserves a lot more than what is given to him, so Dean will gladly take a beating if it means Sam is happy today.

“Hey Sam!” Dean yells as his brother resurfaces. His eyes sparkle mischievously. “I’m _coming!”_

Sam’s eyes go wide.

Dean starts sprinting into the water at full speed.

Sam screams.

Dean tackles Sam and a full scale water war breaks out.

The Winchester brothers laughs and screams fill the air and for the moment, everything is right in the world.

 

xx

 

By the time Sam and Dean get back to the motel, its 4:30 in the afternoon. Their shorts have dried off a little on the walk back, but they’re still dripping wet.

 

Dean lets Sam use the shower first as long as he doesn’t use all the hot water. “No promises!” Sam yells from behind the closed bathroom door.

Dean lets out a chuckle and grabs Sam’s books from the

 

The boys cook up an early dinner out of the glorious kraft mac ‘n cheese with apple pie for dessert. After dinner, they play a few rounds of cards, don their hoodies and jeans and head out to sneak into a drive in movie.

 

The movie doesn’t start for another hour, so Dean decides to swing by Mel’s again.

The little coffee shop isn’t busy. There’s a middle-aged business woman doing work on her laptop in the back, but besides that, it’s empty.

Sam asks for a hot chocolate, but Dean doesn’t order anything for himself. He just doesn’t have the money. He has to save what little he has.

Sam returns to the same corner table from that morning while Dean orders.

“Hi again,” he smiles, “My brother would like your finest hot chocolate, please.”

Mel blushes, which she seems to do around Dean all the time. “And for you?”

He shrugs, smile turning into something more of a grimace. “Eh, ya know. Tight on money,” he motions to Sam waiting on the other side of the room, engrossed in reading a small selection of brochures, “The kid deserves whatever I can get for him, though.”

Mel looks up at him sadly. “And you don’t?” she asks. This time, Dean blushes.

He quickly pays and joins Sam at the table, handing him his drink.

Sam sips the hot drink, savoring it as much as he can.

“Is it good?” Dean asks. His little brother nods enthusiastically. “Best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Did… Did you not get anything?” He asks curiously.

Dean waves him off. “Eh. Didn’t really want anything.”

 

A few minutes later, a steaming cup is set down in front of Dean. He looks up, surprised, to see Mel gazing down at him, holding a cup of her own.

“Hot chocolate,” she says at his confused look, “On the house.”

She pulls up a chair and sits down next to the brothers. At their questioning stares, she shrugs. “It’s not busy. I have time for a break.”

 

Mel and the Winchester brothers chat for a while.

“So, I haven’t seen you two before. What brings you to Poughkeepsie?” Mel eventually asks, sipping her drink.

“Just passing through,” Dean tells her.

She turns to Sam. “Got any other brothers or sisters?”

“No. Just me, Dean, and my dad, but he’s not around much, so it’s mostly just me and Dean.”

Dean shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Sam isn’t supposed to tell people that.

Mel frowns softly. “Sorry to hear that,” she eyes Dean, “At least you’ve got an amazing big brother.” He blushes seemingly for the millionth time that day and checks his watch. The movie starts in 15 minutes.

“As lovely as this has been,” he stands, “Sam and I have somewhere to be. Thanks for the hot chocolate, Mel.”

“Yeah thanks!” Sam echos.

“I’ll be seeing you,” she says, tone strangely serious. Dean sighs, knowing that they don’t have enough money to come back here again. Besides, his dad will wake up some time tomorrow and they’ll never see her again.

Mel waves as the two exit the shop, taking to a brisk walk as to get to the movie in time.

 

Fortunately, the drive in theater is surrounded by trees. The boys hike through the woods and sit down at the treeline, the giant screen perfectly in view in front of them. Luckily, the car closest to them has the radio volume turned up really high, letting them hear the movie.

“What movie is this?” Sam asks as they settle down, leaning against the trunks of trees.

The _Batman & Robin _ title displays on the big screen, earning cheers from everyone.

Dean grins from ear to ear. “This came out a week ago, Sammy.”

Sam giggles. “Of _course_ you’d pick this.”

“Well _yeah_ . I _am_ Batman, after all.”

 

Thirty minutes into the movie, Sam’s stomach growls. He looks up sheepishly at his brother. They forgot to bring snacks.

Dean ruffles Sam’s hair and stands up. “I’ll grab some popcorn.”

A few moments later, he approaches the concession stand, thumbing his wallet nervously.

There are two people in line. He looks up at the menu.

_Popcorn : $3.00_

Dean mentally kicks himself. Movie food is so much more expensive than regular food. He checks his wallet and sighs. Three ones. That’s all he has till he’s completely out.

“Hey kid,” the cashier calls, breaking Dean out of his thoughts. The people in front of him payed and left a while ago. “You gonna buy something or what?”

He hesitates before stepping forward. “Uh, yeah. Can I get a popcorn, please?”

He hands over the last of his money and takes the food, making his way back to his little brother.

 

Dean stops mid-stride. This was _definitely_ where he left Sam.

“Sam?” he whispers.

No answer.

“Sammy!” he calls.

Still no answer.

Slipping into hunter mode, Dean surveys the area. Looks normal… _except…_

He looks closely at the ground, using all the tracking skills John Winchester instilled in him.  
Leaves are disturbed, scattered around the ground, and there are grooves in the dirt, as if someone was being dragged away.

Dean takes a deep breath, biting down on his cheek till he tastes blood. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything, right? _Right?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots something shine in the movie-light.

Dean’s eyes go wide and the popcorn falls out of his hands, seemingly in slow motion.

With a shaking hand, he reaches out and picks it up.

It’s Mel’s nametag, covered in blood. And if Dean is to hazard a guess, Sam’s blood.

Whatever happened, Sam put up a fight.

He turns back to the woods, frantically searching for his brother.

 _“Sammy!”_ he yells.

“Hey! Quiet down over there!” someone yells from their car.

Breaths coming in quick succession, Dean turns and sprints back to the motel.

 

He throws open the door, running straight for his dad. He shakes him. “Dad! _Dad!_ Sammy’s missing. I need you!” He goes so far as to slap his father’s face. But alas, John does not wake.

Dean runs a hand over his face, pacing. Breaths come in quick succession as he becomes more frantic.

“Shit shit shit _shit_.”

His eyes fall on the weapons bag thrown in the corner of the room. He stills his frantic movements, knowing what he has to do.

 

Dean loads up. His gun is tucked into the back of his pants, his bowie knife is sheathed against his arm under his sweatshirt, and a small bag of salt and his lockpicks are put in his pocket. He has no idea what he’s up against.

He writes a quick note to his dad, just in case the worst happens, and dashes out the door, straight for Mel’s Cafe.

 

xx

 

Mel’s Cafe is dark except for a dim light on the second floor. Dean easily picks the lock on the front door and slips inside. At the back of the cafe is a small set of stairs. He draws his gun and slowly makes his way up.

As he nears the door by the top, he begins to hear the rumble of voices.

“Mmm. You are quit the snack, little man.” Mel.

“Bite me, you jerk.” _Sammy._

Mel laughs. “Oh I fully intend to.”

Dean’s had enough. With swift, smooth motions, he kicks in the door and cocks his gun, aiming it at Mel.

Her teeth, no, _fangs,_ indicate he’s dealing with a vampire.

 _Shit_.

He didn’t bring a machete.

“You okay, Sam?” He calls.

“Yeah. Dean, she’s a vamp.”

“Yeah I got that now.”

There’s a twinkle in Mel’s eyes and her toothy grin widens with glee.

“Of all the people to choose in this town, I picked a couple of _hunters_. I haven’t had a hunter in a while.”

Dean circles around, never once taking his eyes off Mel, and rounds behind Sam. He’ll have to take her out first before he can work on untying Sam from the chair he’s been strapped to.

His eyes flicker down to Sam, taking in the beaten expression, black eye, and cut above his temple.

Mel lunges at him, teeth first. Dean gets a shot off and misses. Suddenly, Mel is over him, teeth at his throat.

Sam screams.

Mel’s teeth pierce his throat and he blacks out.

 

When he comes to, he is feeling slow and tired and his head is _pounding_.

The first thing he realizes is that he’s somewhere else. An abandoned farmhouse, maybe. He’s still in a heap on the floor.

Mel is securing Sam to a chair again. He’s spitting words of fire at her, showing off his famous Winchester attitude. Despite this, tears are dripping down his face.

“If you don’t _shut up_ I’ll suck you dry right now,” she threatens.

“Sammy,” Dean breathes, voice raspy from blood loss.

Mel turns to him, surprise on her face. “Huh. Didn’t think you’d wake up again…”

He blinks, eyes heavy and threatening to close, bringing him back into unconsciousness.

“I’m gonna got the IVs and blood bags so I can savor you guys later. Don’t go anywhere!” She winks and saunters outside.

“Dean. Dean come on,” Sam calls to him, “Dean we have to go _now_.”

“S’mmy where are we?” he mumbles.

“She brought us into the middle of the woods so no one can hear us and we can’t get away easily,” Sam replies nervously, “Now let’s _go_.”

Mustering up all the energy he has, Dean manages to lift himself up. He draws his knife and slashes through the ropes around Sam’s hands effortlessly.

 

xx

 

Dean has lost time, because the next thing he realizes is that he’s looking up at the sky. The stars shine back at him. He looks around. He’s been propped up against a tree in the middle of the woods. Sam is a few yards ahead holding Dean’s knife protectively, scanning the perimeter.

A twig snaps nearby. Sam whirls around, worry and fear etched deeply onto his face.

“Well well well.”

 _Mel_.

Sam spins to his right, searching for the source of the voice.

“Did you _really_ think you could get away from me?”

He turns to his left, breathing picking up as his hunter instincts flair up at him, _screaming_ at him to run.  
But he won’t leave Dean behind.

In a flash, Mel punches Sam across the cheek, sending the 14 year old to the ground in a daze.

She turns to Dean, eyes dark. “I only really need one of you.” Her fangs descend and shes on him again.

Dean’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to call out to his brother who is dazed on the forest floor, but nothing more than a choking sound escapes his lips.

Dean closes his eyes, fearing the worst.

 

He must have lost time again because Sam is screaming.

Mel is getting off of him, turning on Sam, who is in hysterics. His foot is caught under a root, preventing him from going to his brother’s aid. Tears are dripping down his face as he screams Dean’s name in agony.

“Getting real tired of your screaming, _Sammy_. Maybe I’ll suck you dry just to shut you up.”

“Honey,” Dean rasps, “If you think you’re-” he coughs once, “eating him, you’ve got another thing coming,” Dean somehow manages to prop himself up against the tree in a half-sitting position.

“Listen, kid,” Mel puts her hands on her hips, obviously annoyed, “I’ve been around for _quite_ a while. You have _no_ idea how many hunters have said that to me.”

“I’ll kill you first,” he says gruffly. After all, even close to death, a Winchester never backs down from a fight.

“Yeah? You and what army?”

Dean smirks, though it probably looks more like a grimace. With heavy eyes, he pushes himself up, using the tree for support, and draws his gun, even when knowing it won’t do any good against her. “Don’t need an army,” his voice is clear and confident, “I’m a fucking Winchester, for God's sake.”

Mel visibly blanches. “ _Winchester?_ ” she squeaks and takes a tiny step back.

Sam, having calmed down, yells from his place on the forest floor. “Yeah! You picked the wrong hunters to mess with!”

“I need weapons!” she yells as she scrambles into the night.

Dean lifts his gun, firing once in her direction, despite the fact that he can’t see her anymore, and collapses back onto the ground against the tree, energy completely spent.

Dean sits there for a moment, realizing how grace their situation really is. It’s not like they can go anywhere. Sam is stuck and Dean has lost too much blood.

With heavy eyes and a heavier heart, Dean slips into a dreamless sleep.

 

xx

 

A sharp slap wakes Dean with a start. His head feels like it’s been crushed as it pounds harshly again and again. His ears are ringing loudly, blocking out most noise, and his stomach is in knots. Squinting against the morning sunlight, he can make out the shape of his father. By the way his shoulders are set, he’s doing everything he can not to shoot Dean right then and there.

There’s a whimper to his left. Dean sees Sam rubbing his ankle, which is red and bloody. He probably tried desperately to free himself last night, but to no avail.

“Sam told me everything,” John says curtly.

“M-Mel?” Dean rasps. The vamp is nowhere in sight.

“Found her with a bullet in her spine a little ways away,” John answers gruffly, “You managed to do _something_ right and actually hit her.”

Dean’s eyes flicker down to the bloody machete in John’s hand, giving him the rest of the story.

“S’m?” He closes his eyes as his ears slowly stop ringing.

“M’okay. Just twisted my ankle. What about you? Are you doing okay, Dean?”

“...hurts,” he mumbles yet another one word answer.

John scoffs loudly.

And then he’s on him.

“Get the fuck up,” he growls as he yanks Dean up hard by his arm, earning a pained yelp.

“Dad, _you’re hurting him_!” Sam yells as he pulls on John’s arm in an attempt to loosen his iron grip on Dean.

Dean hears his father push Sammy to the ground, yelling at him to stay there till he is damn well finished.

“Sam could’ve gotten _killed!_ ” John lands a solid punch on Dean’s cheekbone, never once letting go of him. “It is _your_ responsibility to _keep your brother safe!_ ” Another punch, but this one in his stomach. “ _Useless!_ ”

John lets go and Dean falls to the ground, tears streaming down his face as he clutches his stomach in pain.

His dad is over him, throwing out punches and slurs like a mad man. His head swims. He can’t _breathe_. Dean is crying out, feeling something horrible happening to him with every fist that lands.

All of a sudden, a small fist collides with John’s head, knocking him off balance.

John stills, glaring at Sam, who is backing away slowly in fear, now clutching his hand.

A deafening _crack_ echos through the forest, making everything fall still.

Sam is on the ground, stunned from the sharp slap.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again, boy, or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

In one fell swoop, John has Dean over his shoulder, carrying the broken boy like a sack of potatoes. With this brings a sudden rush of blood to Dean’s head, sending him into unconsciousness.

 

xx

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

A steady beeping sound accompanies Dean’s emergence from sleep.

Cracking open his eyes, or eye, as one is swelled shut, Dean can see white.

He’s in a hospital room.

“Hey there son,” a man in a white lab coat greets him as he walks into the room. A doctor. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You were touch and go for a while there.”

“Wha-” Dean breaks off into a coughing fit. The doctor walks over and presses the edge of a plastic cup to Dean’s lips. He drinks greedily as the cool water soothes his aching throat.

“You sustained a moderate concussion, several broken and bruised ribs, severe blood loss, severe internal bleeding, and a punctured lung, which was caused by one of the broken ribs. You’ve been unconscious most of the night.”

Dean blinks, talking in all the information. What happened yesterday?...

And then it hits him.

Mel.

Sam.

_John._

Dean visibly shivers.

“Sam?” he asks the doctor.

“I’m right here, Dean.”

He jumps as Sam speaks out next to him from out of his line of sight.

“N’kay?” he asks, slurring his words thanks to the concussion.

“Well, I have the twisted ankle still and my hand is broken from… yeah…”

 _From him trying to keep John from killing me_ , Dean says to himself

“Boys, your father said you were in a mugging…?” the doctor asks skeptically.

Dean pauses a moment before nodding.

“Yes?” he asks again. Sam nods.

The doctor sighs, closes the door, and looks at the boys carefully.

“Your father told me he found you two after you were beat up by a school bully.”

Dean wants to slap himself.

The doctor continues. “I was skeptical, even before you woke up, as his hands and face showed signs of… a fight. His injuries match consistencies with both of yours. I called Child Protective Services. They will be getting here in about an hour to talk with you both.”

“Where’s our dad,” Sam asks cautiously.

The doctor bites his lip. “He was arrested an hour into Dean’s surgery and Sam’s casting, but unfortunately, he broke out of the county jail. Now, I have stationed a police officer at your door for your safety. Your father won’t be bothering you anymore.” He smiles sadly and leaves the room.

“Sam,” Dean says urgently, “We need to get out of here _now_. Get me a wheelchair.”

 

A few minutes later, Sam is limping out of the room with his crutches while Dean unsteadily wheels behind him.  
“Where are you two going?” the police officer asks.

“We are going to take a lap around the wing,” Sam replies, lie flowing easily off his tongue, “We’d appreciate it if you gave us some air and time to process what’s going on.” Dean ducks, hiding his smirk.

“Alright. But if you aren’t back in ten minutes, I’ll come find you to make sure everything is alright.”

“Thank you sir.”

The Winchester brothers make their way around the corner, into the elevator, and right out the front door.

 

xx

 

An hour later, Sam and Dean arrive at their motel, dirty, tired, and in pain. Dean had decided to ditch the wheelchair and now deeply regrets that decision. He might have pulled some stitches after ducking behind a bush when a cop car came rushing by, probably looking for the ‘two missing abused kids that were taken from the hospital’.

John must have checked out because he is in the front seat of the impala looking straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, obviously fuming mad.

Sam and Dean trade glances as they slowly and quietly slip into the back seats.

 

The brothers watch as they pass a sign on the road.

_Now Leaving Poughkeepsie. Come back soon!_

“I should have listened to you,” Sam whispers, “ _‘drop everything and run’.”_

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Luluriku for giving me the poughkeepsie prompt. It took me about three months to write, but I think it was worth it. I had a blast writing this tragic story :')  
> I have a work titled "prompts" so if anyone has any ideas, swing over there and leave a comment and I'll try to create it.  
> Thank you all for reading!!


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